


(you bring the unexpected to an) ordinary day

by trustingno1



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:03:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1355029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustingno1/pseuds/trustingno1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your investigation," Mycroft says. "It needs to cease. <i>Immediately</i>."</p>
<p>John rolls his head to the side and frowns at the phone. Mycroft's threats have never been terribly effective on him. "Mycroft," he says, as patiently as he deserves. "We're not investigating <i>anything</i>." They <i>could</i> be having breakfast right now. Still sleeping, even. Either sounds pretty good. Better than this.</p>
<p>(John just wants to enjoy their bloody holiday).</p>
            </blockquote>





	(you bring the unexpected to an) ordinary day

**Author's Note:**

> There is no plot here. It is _just fluff_.

  
  
"It's far too early for this," Sherlock murmurs as he answers the phone, putting it on speaker, and John buries his face in his pillow for a moment.  
  
"You're in Canterbury," Mycroft replies, without preamble.  
  
"Good morning, brother," Sherlock says, mock-pleasantly.  
  
Mycroft ignores him. "In fact, you're both in Canterbury."  
  
"Yeah, cheers, Mycroft," John says, without opening his eyes, disappointingly un-suffocated, as Sherlock sets the phone down on the mattress between them. There'll have been a change in background noise when Sherlock swapped over to speaker, and there's only one reason he'd _need_ it on speaker. Not a terribly impressive deduction, all things considered.  
  
" _Why_?"  
  
Sherlock smirks a little, at the ceiling. "We were feeling ... whimsical," he deadpans.  
  
"Sherlock," Mycroft says, warningly.  
  
"It's lovely this time of year," John adds, and he knows Sherlock's lips twitch, the way they do whenever he joins in Sherlock's needling of Mycroft. He stretches his legs, enjoying the decidedly un-lumpy mattress.  
  
"John-"  
  
"Was there a point to this?" Sherlock asks.  
  
" _Stop it_ ," Mycroft says, sharply, and John raises an eyebrow in surprise. Sherlock blinks back at him, genuinely surprised.  
  
"Stop what?" Sherlock asks, after a beat, curiosity at war with his desire to never look like he doesn't know something.  
  
"Your investigation," Mycroft says. "It needs to cease. _Immediately_."  
  
John rolls his head to the side and frowns at the phone. Mycroft's threats have never been terribly effective on him. "Mycroft," he says, as patiently as he deserves. "We're not investigating _anything_." They _could_ be having breakfast right now. Still sleeping, even. Either sounds pretty good. Better than this.  
  
Mycroft scoffs, and Sherlock scowls, and - right. One of _those_ conversations, then. Fan _tas_ tic.  
  
"It doesn't concern you," Mycroft insists, cryptic as ever, and, off John's puzzled look, Sherlock lifts his hand a touch in unaffected, silent bewilderment.  
  
"Look, Mycroft, I'd let you know if there was a chance we'd get into any _real_ trouble," John promises, pushing up onto his elbows.  
  
"No, you wouldn't," Mycroft says, dismissively.  
  
"I really wouldn't," John agrees, under his breath, and Sherlock meets his gaze, over the phone, and smiles, slightly.  
  
"What on earth are you doing in _Kent_?" Mycroft asks, frustrated and a little _appalled_.  
  
John wants to roll his eyes. It _is_ too early for this. "Trying to have a holiday," he mutters.  
  
"You should try it sometime," Sherlock adds, smug in a way that's meant to deliberately irritate his brother.  
  
"What exactly do you think we're up to?" John asks, and in Mycroft's pause, Sherlock lunges across John to grab his phone from the bedside table, knocking him onto his back. " _Jesus_ , Sherlock," he gasps, quietly, pinned to the mattress and Sherlock grunts a semi-apology, thumbs flying across the keypad.  
  
John's left hand lands on Sherlock's side, his thumb stroking the skin just above his hip.  
  
"Fort Halstead," Sherlock says, suddenly. There's another pause, from all of them. "That's what you think we're investigating," Sherlock adds, then, almost to himself, " _Why_?"  
  
"Sherlock," Mycroft says, warningly. "Leave it."  
  
Sherlock mumbles his agreement, even as he glances back down at John's phone.  
  
"Apologies for the interruption," Mycroft says, tightly. "Enjoy your - _holiday_."  
  
Sherlock reaches over and hangs up his phone with his free hand, looking thoughtful.  
  
"Oi," John says, plucking at his side, and Sherlock glances down at him for a moment before he twigs.  
  
" _Oh_ ," he says, "of course." He ducks his head and kisses John, chaste and undemanding, and when he pulls back, he licks his lips, eyes scanning John's face.  
  
John tugs him back down and kisses him again, warmly.  
  
"So," he says, cheerfully, "Plans for today." Sherlock hums at him to continue, kissing his way down John's neck. "We could visit Canterbury Cathedral," he says, mock thoughtfully, and Sherlock hums again, non-committal, as he kisses John's collarbone. "There's meant to be some festival happening," he adds, and Sherlock nudges the neck of his vest lower with his nose. "Or we could drive down to Dover ," he suggests, catching a hand around the back of Sherlock's neck. "Or ... or we could go break into Fort Halstead," he says, mock-resigned, lips twitching, and he knows he's not fooling Sherlock.  
  
Sherlock kisses his clothed chest, affectionately, before looking up, eyes bright and amused.  
  
"Ready when you are," Sherlock says.  
  


 

 

**Author's Note:**

> (I'm not sure how likely a holiday in Kent is, really, but I needed a research facility Mycroft would have a vested interest in protecting, so I went with a [research site](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fort_Halstead) belonging to an agency of the Ministry of Defence).


End file.
